


Miscellaneous Drabbles

by leen_go (cagedchaos)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:11:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cagedchaos/pseuds/leen_go
Summary: A collection of drabbles too short to be their own story.





	1. Seasons

**Spring**

****Spring is for the smell of morning dew. Spring is for the cherry blossoms that flutter to the ground like a shower of dancing pink faeries. Spring is for the budding roses that Yixing has grown in the railing planters on their balcony since they first moved into their shared apartment.

Spring is also for Easter, when Yixing makes Yifan sit down at their kitchen table so they can paint colourful patterns on eggs that they donate to the community center for their annual Easter Egg Hunt.

“Why don’t we just buy a whole bunch of chocolate eggs?”  Yifan complains (as he does every year before Yixing hits him), as he dips his tiny paintbrush into a jar of lavender purple paint. “You know, because it’s the thought that counts, really. And kids love them some chocolate.”

“Because it’s nice to sit down for once, and not be in a rush to get places. Don’t you feel relaxed?” Yixing asks, painting a squiggle that runs right around the hard-boiled egg.

Yifan’s face pulls into a scowl, a habit that Yixing has decided is his go-to expression. He doesn’t say anything, but Yixing is right, he does feel relaxed, though he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s sitting around painting Easter eggs, or if it’s just because he’s sitting around painting Easter eggs _with Yixing_.

“Besides, it’s nice to do something for the community, especially for the kids,” Yixing adds, dotting white circles over the pink background.

“I’m someone’s kid. Why don’t you do something nice for me?” Yifan jokes.

Yixing snorts, “I’ll do something nice for you when you do something nice for me.”

Yifan pretends to be offended, “What? I do nice things for you all the time! See, me sitting here is nice. I could have just left you to paint six dozen eggs on your own.”

Yixing laughs, “Nice would be you not complaining about it every other second.” He places his finished egg down to dry, among over two dozen others, “Also, nice would be you actually working faster than a snail,” he adds, pointing to the five that Yifan has done in the last couple of hours.

Yifan frowns, “Last year, you said I wasn’t putting enough effort into them, so…”

Yixing picks up the nearest egg that has already dried. “Really? This looks like a five year old’s work. I guess it’s a _good_ thing, then, that you’re working so slow,” Yixing pauses to smirk, “Don’t want the kids to cry over how ugly the egg they found was.” Yifan scowls again and elbows Yixing in the ribs, making him giggle. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? Is this supposed to be a straight line?” Yixing continues teasingly as he leans into Yifan’s shoulder.

Yifan tosses the paintbrush in his hand into the container of wash water and puts the egg down, crossing his arms exaggeratedly. “Not everyone is good at art,” he counters defensively.

Yixing only continues to laugh, picking up one of his immaculately painted eggs and offering it to Yifan. “Peace offering?” he suggests innocently, but pulls it back when Yifan reaches for it. Instead, his arm extends upwards to Yifan’s head and cracks the hard shell on Yifan’s head.

Yifan is dumbfounded for a moment as he realizes that Yixing has just hit him in the head with a raw egg, and is now shrieking in glee beside him. Yixing nearly falls off his chair laughing at the blank look on Yifan’s face, but has to recover quickly, because Yifan has just grabbed a messy handful from his hair and is holding it threateningly over Yixing’s own head. Yixing ducks quickly out from under it and runs towards the bedroom, but before he can lock the door, Yifan is there, trying to push his way in.

“You are so evil, Yixing!” Yifan hollers from his side of the door.

“It’s good for your hair, Fanfan! See? I did something nice for you!” Yixing yells in return, still laughing, with his back against the other side of the door as he tries to push it closed again.

“Yeah? Then you have some too!” Yifan reaches between the crack in the door to rub his yolky hands through Yixing’s hair, making the latter squirm and consequently, lose the battle for the door. Yifan watches Yixing retreat to the furthest wall with a playful glint in his eye and a carton of raw eggs he’d pulled from the counter as he chased after Yixing in his clean hand. “You are _so dead_ , Zhang Yixing.”

 

**Summer**

Summer is Yifan’s least favourite season. It’s too hot, and it’s too humid. The apartment he shares with Yixing has an external air conditioning machine that’s only half functional and barely manages to keep him cool, even when he’s sitting right in front of it.  What’s worse is that because of the heat, Yixing also stops using the kitchen oven in order to reduce the amount of heat trapped in their home, ergo, no baked goods for Yifan.

The only good thing about summer, in Yifan’s opinion, is that the basketball court at the local school is no longer filled with annoying teenagers. No, teenagers are busy taking trips during their summer holiday, or going to the mall, or… whatever. The basketball court is where Yifan spends most of his time when he isn’t at work, mostly because the workout tires him out enough that the heat no longer bothers him.

…

“Hey, Yifan, think fast,” Yixing calls, before he tosses a plastic water bottle in Yifan’s direction.

Yifan catches the bottle with ease with his right hand, while he tucks the basketball he’d been shooting at the hoop under his left arm. “When’d you get here?” he asks, taking a large gulp and nearly choking, spewing water down his front.

Yixing laughs at his boyfriend before picking up the towel that had been sitting in wait on the ground and jogging towards Yifan to wipe his mouth, “Klutz,” he mutters with a smirk.

Yifan smacks Yixing’s hand away with a playful glare and continues to wipe the rest of his face of the sweat accumulated in the past half hour. “Up for some one-on-one?” he asks, throwing the ball at Yixing, who catches it with both hands, dropping the unopened bottle he’d been holding to the ground.

“It’s hardly a fair match, don’t you think?” Yixing asks, dribbling the ball beside him.

Yifan snorts, “Scared of losing?”

Yixing narrows his eyes, “You wish,” he retorts before shooting the ball over Yifan’s head and dropping it through the mesh netting with ease.

Yifan’s eyes follow the ball before he turns back around to frown at Yixing, “Lucky shot.”

Yixing laughs mockingly before kicking the dropped bottle to the side and going after the rolling basketball.

“Oh, you are _so_ on,” Yifan grins before chasing Yixing down the court.

…

“I _will_ beat you one of these days, you know,” Yixing mutters as he catches his breath, lying spread eagle on the hot asphalt with his eyes closed.

Yifan sits down on the ground next to Yixing, with his arms hanging over his bent knees. “One of these days,” he repeats with a condescending tone as he rolls his eyes. He picks up the water bottle again and removes the lid quietly with a grin plastered on his face. He gets up to his feet with as little sound as possible before upturning the entire bottles contents over Yixing.

Yixing bolts upright immediately as Yifan finishes emptying the water on him, making Yixing’s white tank top soak into a translucent film. “Argh, Yifan! You do this _every time_ ,” he grumbles loudly before getting to his feet as well. “You are such a terrible winner.”

“Maybe you’re just a sore loser,” Yifan shoots back.

Yixing sticks out his tongue before picking up his own water bottle with a teasing look, only Yifan is too distracted with the soaked and nearly see-through shirt Yixing is wearing to notice.

Maybe summer isn’t _all_ bad. 

 

**Autumn**

Both Yixing and Yifan share birthdays in autumn, one in October, and one in November. Yifan likes to joke about Yixing’s birthday falling on the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend on most years, wanting to eat turkey for dinner sometimes before the cake that Yifan buys at the local bakery. It never tastes as great as the ones Yixing makes, but it’s the only thing Yifan can think of to give Yixing a break on his special day.

Autumn is also for the colour change in leaves, and the start of many months of Yixing’s baked goods that Yifan likes so much: pumpkin pies, coconut squares, strawberry cheesecakes, and chocolate chip oatmeal cookies among other things.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not a giant ball of fat, the way you stuff yourself with all that crap,” Yixing laughs, pulling out a tray from the oven. He hits Yifan in the hand with the oven mitts when he tries to steal one of the cookies. “These aren’t for you, Fanfan.”

Yifan scowls, and almost whines, “Well, who _are_ they for, then?” He shakes his hand, pretending that the attack had hurt more than it actually did.

Yixing rolls his eyes before grabbing a spatula from the drawer to start lifting the treats from the tray. “These are for my cousin’s brother-in-law’s daughter’s school bake sale.”

"And your super distant relative is more important than me? I’m hurt.” Yifan tries to pout, but succeeds only in making Yixing laugh.

“Don’t ever do that again, Fan-ie. It just makes you look constipated.”

Yifan returns to scowling instead, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning on the fridge door as Yixing continues about transferring the cookies onto a cooling rack. He picks up the cup of coffee from the counter and glowers at the back of Yixing’s head as he sips from the mug.

“Quit, sulking, Fanfan. I’ll make you some later.”

Yifan replaces the mug from the counter and walks towards Yixing, slinking his arms around Yixing’s waist and resting his chin on Yixing’s shoulder. “When’s later?”

Yixing sighs, obviously disgruntled at the childish way with which Yifan is acting. “You’re just a spoilt little brat, aren’t you?”

“Just one, Xing-ah?” Yifan whispers, before he starts kissing the side of his neck under his ear.

“ _No_ , Yifan. Now quit bugging me.” Yixing tries to shrug Yifan off, but fails miserably, squirming from the tickle; he doesn’t like people touching his neck and Yifan knows it well.

“Please?” The word is barely audible and Yifan’s breath is warm on Yixing’s ear as his lips graze over the rounded cartilage until Yixing shivers under him. Yifan grins because Yixing’s hand that isn’t around the spatula is gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

Yixing turns around abruptly, making Yifan loosen his hold around Yixing when a cookie is shoved into his mouth unceremoniously.

Yifan’s eyes spring wide at the action and he sniggers when he realizes that Yixing is flushing about every possible shade of red. He raises his hand to the cookie to break it off where his teeth are biting down, chewing the piece slowly before leaning down and kissing Yixing quickly on the cheek. “Thanks, babe,” he grins before picking up his cup of coffee again and disappearing into the living room, snickering when Yixing yells “Jerk!” from the kitchen. 

 

**Winter**

Yifan likes winter the most of all the seasons. The trees have shed all their leaves in favour of bearing sharp icicles instead; the cold and dry air makes the skin on his face hurt when it blows, but it also tinges Yixing’s cheeks a cute pink, which makes Yifan’s heart skip a beat; hot tea becomes a staple in the home he shares with Yixing; and December is a month of chocolaty indulgence.

But December is also a month of family gatherings, and this year, Yifan spends his Christmas at the house of Zhang. He’s glad that this year, it’s only Yixing’s parents, and not the entire extended family, like two years ago. It’s not like Yifan doesn’t like his future in-laws, but it’s still a dinner rife with awkwardness that Yifan endures by holding Yixing’s hand loosely under the table.

So Yifan is infinitely glad when dessert is over and everyone is yawning from the richness of the chocolate cake that Yixing has baked for the occasion. “Thanks so much for the delicious meal, Mrs. Zhang,” he says with a polite nod.

“You’re very welcome, Yifan!” She answers in her typical cheery voice, a habit that Yifan has learned has been passed on to Yixing. “You’re always welcome in this house, you know that right? You’re practically family now, anyway.”

Yifan smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his lowered head in embarrassment. “Uhm, thanks, Mrs. Zhang,” he repeats, turning towards the closet to retrieve his jacket along with Yixing’s in an attempt to avoid the awkward implication: the only thing that could have made it _more_ awkward was if she had said Yifan could call her ‘mom’. “Yixing and I should really get going…” he says as he fumbles with wrapping the blue scarf Yixing had knit for him as a gift last year around his neck.

“Drive safely, alright?”

“Thanks,” Yifan says for the third time as he takes Yixing’s hand in his and opens the front door, only to have a half a foot of snow tumble onto his boots. “The snow storm,” Yifan mutters under his breath, only then remembering the forecast for the night.

“Oh! Well, why don’t you two stay the night?”

Yifan tenses. He has no problem with the Zhang’s, but staying over at their house overnight is… well, it is just too weird. “Uhm,” he starts, but is interrupted by Yixing, who has squeezed his hand in understanding.

“We really can’t. We’ve got to go somewhere tomorrow morning, and it’s so far away, even from our place in the city.” Yixing explains as he pulls his jacket tighter around him, “You got a couple of shovels we can use to dig our way out?”

…

Half an hour later, Yixing replaces the shovels back into the garage of his parents’ house in the suburbs as Yifan says thanks (for the fourth time) and good-bye before closing the front door and returning to Yixing’s side.

“Come on, let’s head home,” Yifan says, unlocking the doors to the car.

“Ulgh, this is a reminder for why we are _never_ moving to the suburbs: _driveways_.” Yixing scowls and shivers, shrinking his neck into his jacket until the top of the collar covers his nose.

“Aww, but then I wouldn’t be able to do this after we cleared the way to the car,” Yifan smiles, closing the gap between them as he unwraps the scarf from around his neck. He loops it around Yixing’s neck instead and uses it to pull him close enough to lean down and kiss him. “Better?”

Yixing’s face flushes a deeper shade of red that has nothing to do with the cold. “Yeah,” he replies in a whisper and a hidden grin. “Much.”


	2. Hate

Kris hates that Yixing thinks Kris works for an evil corporation. He hates that Yixing laughs whenever Kris is trying to sound important. He hates that Yixing mocks him for sugaring up his coffee. He hates that Yixing barges into his apartment at odd hours, like he lives there. He hates that Yixing “borrows” his stuff and never returns it. He hates that Yixing kicks him off his own bed whenever he comes over.

Even so, when he knows it’s Yixing calling, Kris will always pick up his phone; Kris really hates that Yixing has Kris wrapped around his finger.


	3. Soup, Pasta & Chicken

Luhan doesn’t want to admit just how stressed he is at the moment. It’s not like he’s having problems with his job at the newspaper, or at home with his parents. No, Luhan is stressed because he is standing in the kitchen of his shared apartment with his boyfriend trying to figure out how exactly he managed to burn a pot of soup. Frustrated because the directions on the box were _clearly_ wrong, Luhan resists the urge to tear out his hair, settling, instead, to scraping his scalp with his fingernails repeatedly as he tries to come up with an alternative.  
  
The clock on the stove reads 6:15pm and Luhan almost wants to throw a knife at it for taunting him. Minseok is supposed to be coming home in just under an hour and Luhan has nothing ready except for a burnt pot, a large serving bowl of overcooked pasta that barely qualifies as solid anymore, and an oven tray of chicken legs that crumble when he pokes at them with a fork. If you can even call that “ready”.  
  
As a distraction, Luhan wipes his hands clean and wanders over to his computer, sitting down in the couch as he pulls up the airport website to check for Minseok’s flight arrival time.  
  
 _Scheduled: Mar 26, 17:33  
Estimated: Mar 26, 17:41  
Status: Arrived_  
  
Luhan groans and drops his head into his chest, all hope that maybe his boyfriend’s flight has been delayed enough for him to kidnap Yixing and make him cook in his stead dashed completely (though he isn’t sure it would have been worth Kris’ wrath later, anyway).  
  
Luhan grabs a couch cushion from beside him and hugs it to himself with a pout and trying to blink away the threatening wetness from his eyes:  today was supposed to be so much _less_ of a failure. He buries his face into the softness and screams his muffled disappointments.  
  
Luhan gets so lost in his own frustrations that he doesn’t hear the front door click open. “Woah, did you burn down the house? And why are you screaming into a cushion?”  
  
Luhan’s head snaps up at the voice and despite his situation, the corners of his mouth curl upwards into a wide smile at the sight of his boyfriend standing at the door dropping his keys onto the counter and taking in the disaster in the kitchen with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“You’re home!” Luhan shouts, momentarily forgetting about the mess he’s caused as he tries to control the flush burning his cheeks as he eyes the pilot uniform that Minseok hasn’t bothered to change out of yet. “Didn’t change first, eh?” He asks, mildly distracted by the perfectly shined gold buttons that lines the front of the uniform in pairs and the matching stripes on the sleeves.  
  
Minseok smiles, “I wanted to get home quick so I could see you,” he answers easily, before waving in the direction of the kitchen with a look of worry on his face. “What happened here?”  
  
Luhan stands up and hurries towards Minseok to catch him in a kiss before the latter can take inventory of the number of things wrong in the kitchen. “Nothing happened,” Luhan answers evasively as he turns them around so that Minseok’s back is facing the kitchen, hand slipping in the pockets of Minseok’s uniform jacket.  
  
Minseok raises an amused eyebrow as he leans forwards to kiss Luhan lightly again. “You’re trying to distract me, which means something _obviously_ happened,” the older summarizes, wrapping his arms around Luhan’s waist as he leans back into the counter.  
  
Luhan grins as leans into his boyfriend, legs tangling into each other as he plays with the tie around Minseok’s neck. “I have _no_ idea what you’re trying to say,” he says innocently as he starts to loosen the knotted cloth.  
  
Minseok grabs Luhan’s hand and holds it tightly, “Luhan,” he starts warningly, “What did you do,” Minseok asks, though it sounds more like a statement.  
  
Luhan pouts dramatically for his boyfriend, making sure to look out from under the long fringe that hangs over his eyes to add to the effect, finally getting Minseok to loosen his grip from around his wrist. “Don’t get mad okay?” Luhan begins, playing with one of the golden buttons between his fingers. “I just wanted to make dinner for you when you got home… but… uhm…”  
  
Minseok’s gaze softens as he kisses the tip of Luhan’s nose, “Aww, you didn’t have to.”  
  
Luhan frowns, “Well, I missed you. And it’s your birthday. And I wanted to make something nice for when you came back. And now it’s all ruined.” He pushes himself away from his boyfriend and wanders dejected back to the kitchen, picking up the wooden spoon he was using earlier and scraping it over the crusty and blacken bottom of the soup pot. “I mean, who screws up _soup_?!”  
  
When Minseok laughs out loudly, Luhan wants to turn around and throw the wooden utensil at him. “This _isn’t_ funny, Seokie!” He whines instead. Doesn’t Minseok get how incompetent and useless Luhan feels right now? _Why is he laughing_?! Luhan reaches into the pile of soggy pasta and grabs a handful to throw at his boyfriend. “STOP LAUGHING!” he shouts in irritation when it hits Minseok in the chest and lands in a gloopy pile at his feet.  
  
The action only makes Minseok laugh even harder as he steps around the mess towards Luhan, who has turned around again and started poking angrily at the tray of ruined chicken. He wraps his arms around Luhan’s waist again, fingers folding over his stomach as he hooks his chin over Luhan’s shoulder. “I’m not laughing at you, Luhannie. It’s just that you’re too cute.”  
  
“I’m not cute,” Luhan retorts strongly as he pulls he head in the opposite direction from where Minseok is resting on his shoulder, his usual response to whenever anyone calls him cute or any variation of the word.  
  
Minseok grins and lifts up onto his tip toes to kiss Luhan on the cheek. “Of course not,” Minseok laughs lightly, though a little teasingly. “You didn’t have to make dinner for me, Xiao Lu. I would have been perfectly fine with take out or something.”  
  
Luhan turns around and Minseok loosens his fingers just enough to let him. “I just wanted your birthday to be special,” he mumbles, not looking at Minseok as he fusses with a tiny crease on the jacket lapel.  
  
Minseok smiles again and lightly pushes Luhan’s chin up to face him with a finger. “You being here with me is special enough for me.”  
  
Luhan finally looks up and giggles despite having been annoyed with himself seconds before. “You’re being gross, okay,” he mutters with a grin as he swipes away his boyfriend’s hand, feeling a warm flush rushing to his ears.  
  
Minseok laughs, “So? It’s just the truth.”  
  
Luhan stares at his boyfriend, face scrunched up to show his disdain. “So what do you want for dinner then?” he asks, changing the topic before he can blush even further. “Let’s order in. Pizza? Wings? Chinese? Chinese will be quickest, probably.” Luhan starts to reach for the flyers hanging off magnets on their fridge, only to have Minseok restrict his movements by tightening his hold around Luhan.  
  
“Yeah, Chinese would be quickest, but maybe I don’t want quick,” Minseok answers, a playful quirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he holds Luhan’s eyes before leaning forward to find the younger’s lips with his own.  
  
Luhan lets slip a small satisfied hum as his body reacts naturally to Minseok, fingers from one hand reaching into his boyfriend’s soft hair and the other undoing the rest of the buttons on the pilot’s jacket. When the couple breaks momentarily for air, Minseok pulls Luhan’s t-shirt over his head as he shrugs off his own jacket to the floor.  
  
Luhan laughs quietly into the kiss as Minseok pulls off his tie and flings it somewhere over his shoulder. The pilot frowns as he pulls away reluctantly, “What?”  
  
Luhan’s eyes twinkle as he helps loosen the collar button of Minseok’s perfectly wrinkle-free dress shirt, “So… did you want to order pizza first, or…?” he trails as he pulls a straight face purposely.  
  
Minseok stares blankly at Luhan momentarily before letting out a string of expletives and groaning loudly. “Just shut up and kiss me, will you?”  
  
Another giggle bubbles from Luhan’s throat as he brings a hand sharply up from this side to salute. “Yes, Cap’n!”


	4. Bubbles

When Yixing opens his front door to find Lu Han standing there dripping on his door mat from the rain, he asks himself why he’s friends with the idiot with a huge grin on his face.

 

“What do you want?” Yixing asks in a statement as he crosses his arms on his chest, forehead crinkling in disgust when Lu Han welcomes himself into the house and starts to drip onto the white tiles that Yixing has _just_ cleaned.

Lu Han doesn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to further ruin Yixing’s efforts as he kicks off his shoes and leaves wet sock prints all over the floor as he heads into the kitchen, grabbing paper towels in an attempt to dry his cotton-candy-pink hair with one hand.

It’s only then that Yixing notices that Lu Han's  jacket is _moving_. “Uhm, Lu Han. What the hell-” he starts as Lu Han tosses a wet napkin into the garbage can. The way Lu Han grins at him makes Yixing feel weary.

“I want you to meet someone, Xingxing!” Lu Han grins, drawing back the zipper on his jacket until a furry head pops out, tongue hanging from his mouth and gazing up at Yixing with wide eyes.

“Is that a _puppy?_ Why do you have a _puppy_ in your jacket?! Minseok’s going to have a fit, you know how afraid of dogs he is.” Yixing shakes his head disapprovingly at his best friend but still holds out his hand earnestly as he waits for Lu Han to untangle the pet from inside his jacket.

“I know, I know,” Lu Han replies, handing the puppy to Yixing as he removes the dripping jacket and tosses it over the side of the sink to drip, “but I couldn’t just leave it behind, okay? My friend’s dog had puppies and he was giving them away but no one wanted the runt, so I took him.”

Yixing thinks he should berate Lu Han about not thinking before he acts but he’s too busy rubbing noses with the Scottish Terrier, giggling when it licks him in return. “What are you going to tell Minseok?” he asks instead.

“Uh, well, I’m not,” Lu Han answers casually, wearing that smile on his face that Yixing knows comes right before he asks Yixing for a favour.

“Oh no you don’t. Kris is going to _kill_ me if I tell him we got a dog. You know how he is with pets that can shed!”

Lu Han laughs, “Okay, fine, give him back. I’ll find someone else who’ll take him.” He holds his arms out to take back the tiny dog, but Yixing can’t seem to let go.

“But… what if whoever you find is going to abuse him?” Yixing starts and Lu Han only shakes his head and smiles as Yixing receives another wet lick on his cheek.

“Okay, well then you make sure he’s got a nice home, okay?” Lu Han answers as he picks his jacket up again. “I have to get home. Seokie’s making dinner tonight.”

“What? No! You have to stay and help me find a way to convince Kris to let me keep him!”

But before Yixing can chase after his next door neighbour, Lu Han has already locked his front door.

…

When Kris comes home, he unlocks the door to a sound he can’t quite place. It’s an odd hour for Yixing to be doing dishes because they haven’t eaten dinner yet, but that’s what it kind of sounds like, water running in the sink and the sound of scrubbing.

It when he hears a small yip followed immediately by Yixing making hushing sounds that he starts to worry. “Yixing?” he calls out uneasily, “I’m home?”

Kris raises an eyebrow when he catches a string of startled whispered expletives from the kitchen. “Uhm, hi Kris. Er, dinner’s not quite ready yet, so, uhm, maybe you should, uh, go take a shower upstairs first.”

Kris stands in the hallway for a moment with a confused look on his face before he rounds the corner into the kitchen because Kris always showers in the morning before he heads out to work, “What the hell are you talking about?” he asks, the end of the question trailing into nothing.

Yixing is standing in front of a sink that’s full of bubbles and suddenly a miniature sneeze comes from within it. “Yixing, what-” Kris starts to ask as he take a step forwards, only to have Yixing shift sideways in front of the sink.

“Nothing,” Yixing replies too quickly and it only makes Kris more suspicious. He sends his boyfriend a dangerous look and Yixing whimpers slightly, “Okay, okay. Please don’t get mad okay?” Yixing begs, turning around and sticking his arms into the sink and pulling out a black Scottish Terrier puppy that sneezes again, blowing bubbles onto Kris’ shirt.

“You got a puppy, Xing?” Kris comments with a long sigh, “I thought we’d been through this, Xing. Puppies tear apart the furniture and they shed everywhere and-” Kris’s tirade is cut short because Yixing has lifted the puppy to Kris’s eye level and its wide eyes are making Kris shift uncomfortably.

“But daddy, Fanxing likes it here!” Yixing says from behind the puppy, voice high and squeaky and Kris has to grit his teeth as Yixing makes the dog wave his paw.

“You named him… Fanxing?” Kris asks, peering around the puppy at Yixing, who looks up with eyes wider than the puppy as he nods.

“Yeah, isn’t it cute? I took half of your Chinese name and squished it together with mine. It’s cute, right?”

Kris scowls when Yixing lowers his head and looks up at him through his hair, lips curled into a pout as he brings Fanxing up again.

“Pwease take care of me daddy? Fanxing doesn’t want to get thrown away. It’s rwainy outside and Fanxing doesn’t wanna get rwained on.”

Kris almost swears when the terrier sneezes again and licks a bubble off his nose before letting out a tiny yip, eyes complimenting Yixing’s as his tiny tongue lolls out of his mouth in a cute pant. “ _Fine,_ ” Kris succumbs, and Yixing rewards him with a dimpled smile and a kiss on the cheek, “but you’re responsible if he tears apart any of the pillows.”

And as if the animal understood what its humans just said, Fanxing barks again, earning him a resigned laugh from Kris as he runs his fingers through the wet fur.


	5. Yarn

Lu Han waves from the porch as Yixing scoops Fanxing into his arms and makes him wave to Lu Han, “Bye uncle Lu Han!” Yixing squeaks in the voice that he’s assigned to his puppy while Kris stands with his arms crossed in front of the stairs, trying to maintain the disapproving scowl on his face when Yixing turns to face him and starts to pout. Lu Han turns and leaves quickly before he gets to witness his best friend act disgustingly cute with his boyfriend.

Lu Han wants to blame his own boyfriend for the fact that he had to give away Fanxing instead of keeping him for himself, but can’t bring himself to do it; it’s hardly Minseok’s fault that an angry bulldog had chased him over seven blocks as a five year old. He sighs heavily as he pushes open his front door, barely noticing that Minseok is standing right in front of him as he starts to kick off his shoes and he jumps when he finally looks up.

“Hey, did you have fun with Fanxing?” Minseok asks, hands behind his back.

Lu Han pouts and glares at Minseok, “Yes but because someone hates dogs, I had to turn down Yixing’s offer to let me dog-sit for the weekend,” he grumbles, starting towards the couch in the living room, planning to stuff his face into a cushion to wallow in his own misery.

Minseok steps in front of Lu Han, forcing the latter to stop in his tracks. “I know you’re mad at me Xiao Lu, so let me make it up to you, okay?”

Lu Han watches as his boyfriend pulls a wrapped box topped with a blue ribbon from behind him and frowns, “I don’t want a present, Minseok. And I know it’s not your fault about Fanxing, but-”

Minseok rolls his eyes and pushes the box into Lu Han’s arms, “Just shut up and open it, will you?”

Lu Han pouts again as the finally takes the box and pulls the ribbon loose, letting it fall to the floor as Minseok watches anxiously, biting a thumbnail. Lu Han half-heartedly draws back the flaps of the cardboard box, only just noticing how it has holes poked into the sides, and he nearly drops the box when he finds a black and white kitten curled up in a nap at the bottom. Lu Han is speechless for a moment, eyes open in shock as they fly back and forth between his boyfriend and the baby tabby in the box.

Minseok breaks into a wide smile as he watches Lu Han, reaching into the box to pull out the kitten, “I went ahead and named her Lulu,” he explains absently as he turns his attention away from Lu Han and nuzzles his nose into her fur, turning around and starting towards the living room, whispering incoherent words at the rousing kitten.

Lu Han stares until Minseok disappears around the corner and hurriedly rushes after the two, hopping up onto the arm of the couch that Minseok is seated in.

Lulu doesn’t become a problem until Lu Han starts to wonder if getting a cat might not have been the best idea, given that Minseok has taken to ignoring Lu Han in favour of doting on the kitten. Lu Han has had to stop himself from swearing at the kitten for interrupting a conversation too many times to count on one hand and it’s only been two hours.

“Minseokie,” Lu Han whines, tugging on his boyfriend’s sleeve in an effort to get him to stop making cute faces at Lulu and to look at Lu Han instead, but Minseok only hums in response without turning around. Lu Han pouts and crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring at his boyfriend dragging a string across the seat to make Lulu chase it. Frowning, Lu Han gets to his feet and storms up the stairs. “Stupid Lulu.”

…

Lulu is on her back pawing at the piece of yarn Minseok is holding above her when he realises that Lu Han is no longer sitting next to him. Perplexed and trying to figure out exactly when Lu Han had left the room, Minseok scoops up Lulu with one hand, making her let out a soft mew in protest as he removes her yarn strand. “Lu Han?” He asks out loud to the echoing house. When he doesn’t get a reply, Minseok gets up and pokes his head into the downstairs rooms, “You here?”

When Minseok finally climbs the stairs, he finds the door to the master room closed and he sighs at Lu Han’s bratty behaviour as he knocks, “Lu Han?”

“Go away Minseok. I’m mad at you,” comes the muffled reply from the other side of the door and Minseok is almost a hundred percent sure Lu Han is pouting into a pillow with his knees pulled into his chest.

He reaches for the door knob and thanks his lazy self that he’s never gotten around to fixing the lock after the one time Lu Han broke it in another of his fits. As he had guessed, Lu Han has his arms wrapped around one of their pillows and his chin resting on top of it, knees pulled into himself as he shoots Minseok a glare.

Lulu lets out a little mew again, pawing at Minseok’s shirt to get his attention again, and Lu Han shoots her a glare. “Go away. Go play with that stupid kitty you love so much.” Lu Han shifts on the bed until his back is turned towards Minseok, shoulder hunched dejectedly.

Minseok sighs and crawls onto the bed behind Lu Han and hooks his chin over Lu Han’s shoulder, “Are you mad?”

“Yes,” Lu Han replies curtly, pulling his shoulder away.

Minseok sighs again and finally puts Lulu down on the bed sheets as he shuffles close enough to his boyfriend to wrap his arms around him and snuggles his face into Lu Han’s soft hair, “I’m sorry, Xiao Luuuu. Forgive me?” he begs as he rests his chin on Lu Han’s shoulder again, watching Lu Han scowl ineffectively, which makes him laugh out loud.

“I’m mad at you. You shouldn’t be laughing,” Lu Han mutters when he turns to face Minseok.

Minseok only continues to laugh because Lu Han has always been terrible at trying to act mad when he’s already forgiven Minseok, face contorting awkwardly as he tries to look stern. “I’m sorry, Lu Han. You’re just too cute when you try to act mad.”

Lu Han flushes warm against Minseoks’ cheek. “Cuter than Lulu?”

Minseok nods, “Of course. My Xiao Lu will always be cutest,” he replies, tightening his hold around Lu Han and smiling again when the corners of his boyfriend’s lips perk up. “Is that a smile? Because I’m going to take that to mean Lulu and I are off the hook.”

Lu Han pretends to contemplate a beat longer before he turns to kiss Minseok lightly on the nose. “Fine, but you owe me, now.”

Minseok raises an eyebrow and pulls back, “‘Owe you’? How’s that now?”

Lu Han shrugs, “I have no idea, but you’re the one apologizing, so…”

Minseok scowls mockingly, “God, you’re such a brat,” he mutters before capturing Lu Han’s lips with his own, fingers playing at the edge of Lu Han’s shirt until he receives a soft nip on his hand.

Lu Han whines when Minseok pulls away and looks down to find Lulu peering up at her owner expectantly. “That,” Lu Han points to the kitten with a growl, “That is what you’re owing me for.”


	6. Where There is Light, Darkness will Follow

Chanyeol opened his eyes to fluorescent tubes lining the ceiling with no recollection of how he’d gotten there. His hand was warm, warmer than he’d felt it in a long time. It hardly surprised him when he rolled his head to the side and found himself not alone.  
  
“Baekhyun?” he managed to croak out, reaching out with his other hand to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen across his boyfriend’s eyes.  
  
 _He’s been crying again_ , he thought to himself bitterly as the other stirred, his puffy eyes blinking in the bright light. “Did I wake you?”

Baekhyun removed his hand from around Chanyeol’s abruptly and nearly fell as he stumbled out of his chair into a standing position, hands held up in front of himself defensively.

“No, wait. It’s me!”

The hesitant look from Baekhyun was all it took for him to pull his hand back slowly. “I-I’m sorry. I… I understand if you… leave.” He watched as uncertainty flickered across Baekhyun’s features before the shorter male took another step back.

“I…I’ll get the Professor,” was all he said before turning around to face the door.

 _The ‘Professor’? And what’s_ he _going to do? Put me in a box again?_ A familiar laugh started to ring painfully in Chanyeol’s head and he let out a cry as he brought his hands to his head. “Stop it!” _Why? I’m only starting to have some fun!_ “Just leave me alone!”

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun was at his side once more, hands held tightly around Chanyeol’s own, bringing the redhead’s face level with his own, “Chanyeol, can you hear me?”

“Baek… Baekhyun… I’m sorry… I.. He’s… too strong…”

“Just let me in, let me _help_.”

“Help? I don’t need help.” Anger pooled at the base of his spine as his eyes darkened, a deep red creeping its way into his irises as a chuckle escaped his throat. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

The electrodes fell from the tall male’s body as he lifted himself off the stretcher, toes never touching the floor as he made his way to the door, pulling it off its hinges without so much as a blink of an eye.

“Chanyeol!”

An arm reached out and grabbed his wrist, turning him around as he lowered himself soundlessly onto the ground, curiosity of the name peaking his interest as various health monitors beeped around the room.

“Just come with me. The Professor can fix this.”

The Pheonix looked down and focused on the hand around his wrist, peeling each finger back until their owner let out a cry of pain that put a smile on the Pheonix’s face, “I don’t _want_ to fix it.”


	7. Manipulation

Kris likes weekends; it’s the only time he’s not the last one to wake because Yixing works late shifts at the bar and doesn’t wake until past noon, _at least_. He props himself up on one arm to stare down at his boyfriend whose lips are parted just slightly as he breathes evenly. Tracing a finger up along Yixing’s jaw, Kris can’t help the smile that spreads wide across his face as he tangles his finger loosely in Yixing’s hair, noting that it will be in need of a cut soon.

“You know it’s creepy to watch people in their sleep, right?” Yixing blinks his eyes open slowly with a yawn, taking a second to focus on Kris.

Kris’ hand freezes in place as his cheeks glow from the embarrassment of getting caught . “Uh…,”he mumbles as he quickly shifts his focus elsewhere, eyes landing instead on the dimple that has formed in Yixing’s cheek as he pulls his hand back to himself, “There… was a bug… and… I...”

The dent in Yixing’s cheek deepens as Yixing grins and reaches for Kris’ retreating hand, lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay,” he mutters, bringing their hands up so he can kiss the back of Kris’, “I’m kind of creepy too.” Kris’ blank stare makes Yixing giggle. “Sometimes. I wake up in the middle of the night. And I watch you sleep too. Do you know you snore?”

Kris’ cheeks flush a darker shade as he continues to stutter, “I… What? I don’t…” he clears his throat to try to regain control again, “I do not snore, Zhang Yixing.”

The straight face only makes Yixing smile wider. “Yes, you do, Wu Yifan,” Yixing counters, using Kris’ full name in response to annoy him, “If it helps, it’s a cute snore,” he adds with a shrug.

The older scowls because the last thing he wants to be called is cute, especially by Yixing. He pulls his hand back to himself and buries he face into his pillow, “Ermnercue!”

Yixing’s laughter rings through the sunlight room and Kris feels a pair of lips just behind his ear, “Yes you are, but I’ll promise not to tell anyone if you give me a kiss.”

Kris turns his head around to glare at his boyfriend smiling innocently. He lets out a defeated sigh and leans close enough to feel Yixing’s breath on his lips before smiling and moving slightly to place his lips briefly on the other’s cheek. When he pulls away with a victorious smirk, Yixing frowns for a second before turning around and reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “Luhan’s going to be so happy when someone finally acknowledges that he’s manlier than you.”

“Wha…? Dammit, Yixing!” Kris curses before reaching over Yixing to snatch the phone out of the younger’s hand. “Why do you have to be so difficult first thing in the morning?!”

“I’m not the one who cheated,” Yixing argues with a pout as he turns to face Kris again.

“Well, you didn’t specify where you wanted the kiss, so, _technically_ , I didn’t cheat.”

Yixing stares up at Kris for a beat before pushing Kris off of him and rolling off the bed. “I’m hungry.”

“Great, me too. What’re we having?”

Yixing turns around with a pleasant smile that sends a chill down Kris’ spine, “ _I’m_ making myself an omelet. _You_ can go eat a can of tuna for all I care.”

The mention of _fish_ gets Kris out of bed in a flash, chasing after Yixing, “Wait!” he calls before grabbing Yixing around the waist so he can bend over and kiss him, this time on the lips.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Yixing chirps when he finally pulls away, fingers interlocked behind Kris’ neck.

Kris grumbles something sarcastic before he rests his forehead on Yixing’s, “So… breakfast?”

Yixing grins up mischievously, “Sure, I’ll go grab that can of tuna for you.”

“B-but… you… I just…!”

“What, that kiss? Wasn’t that just to keep me quiet about your cuteness?” Yixing asks innocently, untangling himself from Kris’ confused limbs.

Kris stares after Yixing’s parting figure as a string of incoherent curses fly off his tongue, “Dammit, Yixing!”


	8. The Problem With Now

Yixing shivers as he unlocks the door to the shared apartment. The lights are off; Kris must have already turned in for the night. Yixing peels off his wet jacket and hangs it on the back of a kitchen chair quietly before tiptoeing along the tiled floor to the bedroom, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness.

He should really clean himself off after his long day, but the sight of Kris sleeping peacefully under the covers makes him change his plans. He doesn't bother changing into more comfortable clothes before he climbs onto the bed and burrows under the sheets, pulling them up to his chin as he pulls himself as close into Kris' chest as he can get.

Kris stirs and doesn't open his eyes as he wraps his arms instinctively around his boyfriend. "Mmm, how was work?"

"Terrible," the younger answers with a yawn.

“When’s the hospital going to give you a day off?” Kris mumbles sleepily as he tightens his hold.

Now is not the time to tell Kris that he doesn’t work at the hospital, that he’s never worked at the hospital in the five years since they met. That he gets his paycheck from _breaking_ people, not fixing them.

Now is not the time to tell Kris that his next mark is _him._

Yixing hums noncommittally as he presses his forehead against Kris’ shoulder.

For now, he is just Zhang Yixing. Zhang Yixing whose favorite flavor of ice cream is Rocky Road, who enjoys going to the coffee shop hand-in-hand with his boyfriend to grab a drink, who laughs when his boyfriend tries to impress him with bad jokes or with a home-cooked meal, and who can’t hold himself together long enough to kill a stray spider that crawls across the kitchen table.

For now, he lets himself feel protected, lets himself relax and lets himself be happy.

For now, he lets himself belong only to Kris.


	9. Stay Safe and Don't Get Caught

“I’m sorry it had to end this way, Luhan.”

 _No, you’re really not._ It’s the first thing that comes to his mind as he looks up at the taller male, hating the way his eyes seem to fill with pity as he brings a comforting hand to the blond’s shoulder. He fights the urge to shrug the hand off, trying to recall the way it used to comfort him, not scare him. Instead, he swallows behind gritted teeth and averts his gaze.

“Whatever happens…”

He doesn’t let his best friend finish, “I’ll be fine, Kris.” He looks up, forcing his eyes to harden. “Just _go_.” He watches a muscle tighten in the taller boy’s jaw and tries his best to hold his gaze steady. _Believe in me._

The warmth from Kris’ hand finally falls from his shoulder, and he starts to wonder about the next time he’ll be able to feel it, if ever again.

“Stay safe and don’t get caught,” are the only whispered words that fall from Kris’ lips before he turns and starts to walk away.

He can’t help it; he turns to watch Kris walk steadily away, no, he watches his best friend leave his side for the first time in ten years before he himself turns in the opposite direction with leaded feet.

_I won’t let you down._

…

Adrenaline pumps hard through his veins as he runs. He doesn’t have time to think about how the hunters found him, all he knows is that he has to get away. He’s not strong enough to take them on alone, not without Kris at his side.

When darkness falls, his eyes fail him, but his heightened sense of smell makes up for it; he can only hope the others don’t have the same advantage. He finds a dark corner and slips into the shadows, trying to steady his heavy breathing as he closes his eyes and concentrates. _Where are they?_

Something foreign assaults his nose. _Female_. He concentrates harder. _Lavender perfume._ His eyebrows stitch together and he takes in another deep breath before his eyes snap open. “Shit,” he swears under his breath when he locates his pursuers. In a swift move he grabs her arm as she rounds the corner, bringing his other hand up to cover her mouth as he backs up against the shadowed wall again. “Shhhh,” he whispers in her ear as he keeps his hold around her firm. She’s small and he hopes furiously that her perfume is enough to cover up his own scent. He holds his breath when half a second later, the masked group hurls around the corner too.

Luck is on his side tonight.

He lets out a long sigh when he’s sure he’s alone and all his other muscles loosen too. “Thank you,” he remembers to say when he lets go of the human girl.

“Wait!”

He turns around momentarily at the sound but doesn’t linger; he has to cover up his tracks.

He wishes Kris was still around, he always knew what to do.

…

He stands stiffly in front of the classroom door, waiting for his teacher to let him in and introduce him as the new student in class.

He hates school, hates the humans that built the strange system. _They act like monkeys_ , he thinks to himself as he watches them through the window in the door.

But Kris says humans aren’t half bad once you get to know them, and he trusts Kris’ judgement, always has. ‘ _Besides,’_ Kris used to say, _‘high school is a good way to stay under the radar.’_

He can’t deny that logic.

“Please welcome your new classmate, Luhan.”

He stares around at the pale faces in the room before he remembers he’s supposed to adhere to human social convention by bowing. The grip he has around his shoulder bag tightens as he finds the appropriate words to introduce himself. He tries not to smirk at how easy humans are when he’s received with applause and wide smiles.

_Lavender perfume._

The familiar scent turns his head to right and his eyes widen slightly before he reminds himself to act normal. But she sees him. And from the way she’s watching him walk to his seat next to her, she recognizes him. He drops his bag on the ground beside him as he slides into his chair, trying to ignore her questioning gaze. All he can do is pretend he doesn’t recognize her in return. _Play stupid_. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, hoping that his act makes her stop looking at him like that.

…

He finds himself easily accepted into a group of rowdy boys; they find his control with the ball on the football field something to be desired. He doesn’t think much of it, only that if he’s accepted as one of their own, it’s a lot easier to blend in.

 _‘Stay safe and don’t get caught.’_ Kris’ words echo in his ear.

He looks around at the group, each with a wide smile on his face as they watch him teach one of them how to fight. It’s funny how so little can impress them so much.

He slings an arm around the one they call their leader, still ignoring the imploring looks he gets from her, even after a month.

_Don’t worry, Kris. I won’t._

…

It’s after they’ve seen her off to her bus that the masked hunters locate him. He should’ve seen it coming. His first instinct is to get away from the humans; he can’t afford exposing his kind to humans. But their leader will have none of that, stepping up next to him when a hunter grabs his shirt.

“Not here,” is all the human says before the other nine are right behind him.

 _Shit. What have I gotten them into?_ He clenches his jaw. No, that’s the wrong response. He should be _glad_ he’s got back-up. Maybe he might just get a chance to get away with his life.

…

 _This is a bad idea_ , he thinks to himself as one of the hunters takes the front door of the abandoned warehouse off its rusting hinges with a single kick. He can’t say it out loud though, so he just unshoulders his bag and throws it to the corner.

 _This is a bad idea_ , he thinks to himself as he looks up from his latest victory to see the humans losing; they never stood a chance in the first place. He should have never brought them here.

 _This is a bad idea_ , he thinks to himself as he feels the tattoo on his left wrist grow warm, feels reasoning slip his mind as his vision colours red.

One.

Two.

Three.

The human leader gives him a scared look but he doesn’t care; he’s cleaning this mess he started.

The fourth hunter hits the ground with a thud, groaning as he tries to get up on his feet but fails. _I’m not done with you yet_. He takes a step forward, arm raised and fingers folded into angry fist. _This is for hurting my friends._ He doesn’t pause to think about the term he just used to describe the humans he loathes.

“Luhan! He’s down!”

An arm reaches to stop him but he’s stronger; he won’t let some idiot stop him from seeking revenge.

It’s the silence that wakes him. The complete and utter silence as the world stops spinning and he turns to evaluate the damage. His enemies have fled, but something is wrong. He feels a pair of hands grab his shirt but he doesn’t see who it is. All he sees is the mess of boxes in the corner and the human boy that they pull out of it.

 _This is a bad idea_.

He looks down at his hand.

 _This is a bad idea_.

He looks up and watches the ten human boys limp away.

 _This is a bad idea_.

His knees give out and he crumbles to the ground.

_Lavender perfume._

He looks up and sees her step forward with terrified eyes. “Who are you? _What_ are you?”

He can’t find the words to explain himself, so he just watches her walk away to help her fellow humans.

_‘Stay safe and don’t get caught.’_

He takes a moment to catch his breath.

_I think I’m in trouble, Kris._


	10. Private Business

“Do I really have to?” Kris sulks as he piles eleven shot glasses onto his tray, each filled with a different custom order mix in the colours of the rainbow. “Can’t I just wait until they order a round of tequila and fill a glass with water and _pretend_ I’m doing a shot with them?”

The bartender raises an eyebrow in amusement at him from the other side of the bar as she idly fills a glass with rum-and-Coke with ease without looking. “Aw, come on, Kris. Be a good sport. They’ve spent practically a grand tonight and they like you. Just do the shot with them, smile a little and that’ll be the end of the night. Fifty bucks says that’ll up your tip too.”

Kris scowls and rolls his eyes as he picks up his tray, “Easy for you to say,” he mutters, “You’re not the one being hit on, safe behind your stupid bar counter.” His coworker only laughs before Kris turns away, putting on his practiced smile as he makes his way to the corner where a party of ten twenty-somethings are laughing and giving each other high fives.

“Wooo! Look who’s back!” one of the males cheers when Kris arrives, “And he’s got drinks!”

“That I do,” Kris laughs as he moves to place the entire tray onto the table, only to have several hands reach out and remove all but one of the glasses, which Kris picks up for himself as he holds the tray at his side instead. “You guys having a good time?”

“We are having a _great_ time, thanks. How about you, Kris?” one of them asks as he hops down from the raised platform to stand next to Kris, resting his arm on the waiter’s shoulder, “What are you doing after your shift here?”

Kris laughs again, “Well, I’ll probably be going home and hopping into bed.”

“Oh?” The tallest of the ten says with a raised eyebrow as he leans even closer, the smell of expensive whiskey on his breath, “And whose bed would that be?”

“Definitely not yours, Chanyeol,” a voice says behind Kris and eleven heads turn to welcome the newcomer, dressed in a crisp suit, clearly having just come from the office.

The one that Kris assumes is this ‘Chanyeol’ grins even wider as he drops his arm from Kris shoulder to deliver a hug to their newest addition, “Xiiiinnnggg! What took you so long? You missed all the fun!” he bubbles before letting go, “But you’re just in time for shots!” The tall one frowns exaggeratedly, “Oh, but we didn’t order you one. Wait right here, I’ll go get one for you.”

Kris can’t help but grin at his customer’s exuberance, “That’s okay, he can have mine,” he offers, only to have the smiling idiot push his hand away, “No way, you’re not getting away that easy. Xing can just have mine, I’ll just use the rest of my drink,” he suggests, handing off his shot glass to the suited male and reaching for a full pint of beer sitting on the table. “To Kris,” he starts as he raises his glass, inviting everyone else to join him, “And to all bringers of booze everywhere who, if not for them, there would not be awesome Friday nights. Cheers.”

Kris laughs at the toast but leans forward to tap his glass against everyone else’s above the center of the table before shooting back the colourful concoction alongside everyone else. A chorus of cheers erupts from the group as they slam their glasses onto the table, Chanyeol clambering back onto the raised bench.

“I hope the guys haven’t been too hard on you,” the newest member pipes up as Kris replaces the empty glasses back onto his tray, the original ten already distracted once more by their own games.

Kris smiles good-naturedly, “Naw, they’re fine,” he answers, which is technically true if he were to compare them to some of his other customers in the past.

The short brunet picks up the last glass that Kris had been reaching for, “You sure? None of my boys have been completely inappropriate towards you?”

“Nope, they’re been perfectly polite,” Kris answers easily without a second thought to the selection of words, eyeing the last shot glass in the brunet’s hand, wondering if he should just come back for it later.

“Hm, really. That’s a surprise.”

Kris raises an eyebrow, “What?” he asks without thinking watching as the suited male plays with the glass in his hand. Kris is pretty sure he knows why the glass is being held hostage but he plays along anyway; it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

“Well, you know,” the shorter answers, and Kris gets the distinct feeling that the way his customer is eyeing him from head to toe isn’t just to notice how tall he is. “My name is Yixing, by the way,” he continues, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a business card with his free hand. “Give me a call some time, you know, if you’re looking for something more interesting than waiting tables.” he finishes with a wink as he drops the card down on Kris’ tray, placing the last shot glass over it before turning around again.

Kris only shakes his head when no one is looking at him anymore, turning around to bring the glasses back to the bar, not even bothering to take a peak under the glass at the white card.

“Was that… wait… no… That looks like…?”

Kris raises his eyebrow at his coworker as he empties the glasses into the sink. “What the hell are you rambling about?”

The bartender leans towards Kris to continue in a whisper, “That new guy. He’s the owner of the host club three blocks from here. I’m betting all those other guys work there. Explains why the whole group’s made up of only hot guys.”

Kris’ eyebrows furrow together as he brings the business card up to read before looking up at the group of males again. Zhang Yixing (Private Business Owner, as it reads on his card) turns around as Kris looks up, sending the tall waiter a dimpled smile and a simple nod before turning away again.

Kris suddenly thinks that the comment about getting bored of waiting tables wasn’t just a line to try to get in his pants.


	11. Curious

Kris nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of a familiar figure standing on the balcony outside his bedroom with his arms crossed, eyes a dark crimson.

“Hey, open up.”

The tall blond tensed in his chair, hand hovering over his grade twelve advanced calculus homework, pencil still in hand as he contemplated simply ignoring his unwelcome visitor.

“Dammit, Kris, open your window and get out here before I go over to your sister’s campus and bleed her dry. Or go downstairs and compel your mom to offer herself to me.”

Kris knew better than to push Yixing when his eyes were so dark, so full of a hunger. With a defeated sigh, he put his pencil down and pushed away from the table, chair legs creaking a little on the hardwood flooring. As soon Kris unlocked the window, a brisk draft blew into the room and he shivered. “It’s fucking freezing out there, Yixing. Are you really going to make me come out there?”

The ageless face smirked, “No. You could invite me inside instead. That would make matters simpler, wouldn’t it?”

Kris glared at the shorter brunette with loathing before he turned to grab a sweater from his closet; he’d sooner freeze to death than invite the undead night walker into the house, giving the blood sucker full time access to his home, the only place he had left that Yixing couldn’t reach him without permission. Stepping onto the wooden deck with another shiver, he pulled the zipper up on his sweater, drawing up the hood before he tucked his hands under his arms to keep them warm. “Well? Just get on with it so I can get back to my homework,” he grumbled with a scowl, purposely turning away to stare up at the sky only to have his guest’s face pop up in front of him, wearing a pout.

“What am I supposed to do with you all bundled up tightly like that?” Yixing asked from his precarious perch on a branch.

Kris scowled again before removing his hands from under his arms, pulling back the sleeve to reveal a series of healing teeth marks. Yixing’s face broke out into a grin and he hopped gracefully onto the balcony and reached out to take the offered wrist. “Hurry, would you?” Kris muttered with an annoyed tone when Yixing looked up, eyes glistening a rushing blood red.

“Bon appétit,” Yixing announced in a whisper, a split second before Kris felt the familiar sharp pain of fangs piercing the skin on his wrist.

“Why do you always draw from the wrist?” Kris asked when Yixing finally pulled away, wiping a dribble of blood that was making its way down his chin with his finger, “Don’t your kind prefer the neck or something?”

Yixing glared at Kris for a beat before he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it at Kris to hold across his wound. “Why do you ask that? Have you met another one of my kind?” he asked with a slightly accusatory tone, “Are you telling me I have to _share_ you?”

Kris flinched at the hard look in the immortals’ eyes, even though they were no longer bloodthirsty and had settled into a more human-like brown. “N-no. I meant… you know… just from books I’ve read about vampires and stuff…” he started to explain brokenly, arms coming up in a defensive stance, forcing the handkerchief to fall to the ground. Bending over hastily to retrieve it, an apology tumbled from his lips automatically, his voice hitting about an octave higher with anxiety, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get it dirty, please don’t kill-”

“Is that how you honestly feel, Kris?” Yixing asked, picking the fallen cloth easily before Kris could and helping Kris back to his feet again. “I mean,” he continued, voice dropping to a shakey whisper, “Do you really think I’d kill you?”

Kris swallowed hard at the question. _Of course I do, you psycho, ever since you tricked me that night in the library and then continued to threaten the lives of all the people I love to get me to give up my blood to you!_ He chose not to voice those exact words, “Well, yeah? I mean… that’s kind of what those like you do, isn’t it?”

Yixing took a step forwards and Kris staggered backwards instinctively as the brunette reached for his still bleeding wrist and placing a second, clean handkerchief across the wound and tying it securely with a gentleness the taller didn’t recognize. Tucking a stray corner away, Yixing stepped back once more, jumping onto the ledge of the balcony with a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “If I went for your neck, I wouldn’t be able to stop, Kris. I’d end up killing you.”

Kris snorted into the silence, “Right, because that would mean you’d have to find some other sucker to take advantage of. I get it.”

“No, Kris. I just don’t want to kill you,” Yixing answered, face contorting as if trying to convince _himself_ , “You’re… I don’t know… different? From the other humans, I mean.”

“What?” Kris blurt out before he could stop it. He saw the muscle on the immortal’s jaw clench and watched as the softened expression on the undead face hardened once more.

“I’m curious about you, Kris, that’s all,” Yixing finished, voice cold and detached as he straightened his posture once more. “I’ll see you later, human,” he acknowledged before stepping back and off the ledge.

By the time Kris had run over to the ledge and bent over the banister to search below, Yixing had disappeared.

_I’m curious about you, Kris, that’s all._

Why did such a simple, _emotionless_ comment suddenly send his heart racing?


	12. Phone Calls

Lu Han leans forwards with a smile as he accepts the spoonful of cheesecake Yixing holds out, eyes flickering upwards momentarily towards the clock hanging on the latter’s apartment wall with a sigh.

“What’s wrong? Does it taste bad?” Yixing asks, concern colouring his brown eyes as his head tilts to the side.

Lu Han shakes his head as he swallows, “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s delicious, really. But I just… I forgot I had something I was supposed to do tonight.”

Yixing frowns but doesn’t question it, getting up to grab Lu Han’s jacket from the closet. “I’ll see you next week, then?”

Lu Han only shrugs, taking his jacket with a muttered thanks. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

…

 _“You want me to_ what _?!” Lu Han was almost shouting and his mother had to bring a finger to her lips to remind him that there were indoors._

_“This isn’t up for discussion, Lu Han.”_

_“You can’t honestly expect a full grown adult to have an eleven pm curfew, mom. I’m_ not _calling you every night to check in!”_

_The stout silver-haired woman crossed her arms with a sigh, “Alright, fine. Then you and your husband can come live with me.”_

_Lu Han gritted his teeth together, “He’s not my husband,” he spat out with an annoyed tone._

_“Oh, I’m sorry, your_ future _husband,” his mother returned with a smug grin. “It’s all I’m asking, sweetheart. You can have all the fun you want during the day, but I just need you home with Kim Minseok before the end of the night.”_

 _“Nighttime is when the fun_ begins _, mom! If you’re going to force me into this marriage of financial convenience, the least you could do is let do what I want after the ceremony.” Lu Han’s mother sent her son a dangerous look that made him sigh in resignation; he recognized a losing argument when he saw one. With a last groan, he grabbed his jacket from the maid and stormed out of the room, heading for the nearest exit of his stepfather’s giant home._

…

Luhan watches the elevator doors close with a small wave goodbye to his boyfriend before the corners of his mouth drop and he starts down the hallway towards his apartment. His watch five minutes to eleven and he sighs as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a ring that he slips back onto his left hand, an action he knows is more for show than for significance; his mother has an annoying habit of randomly showing up at his apartment just to check up on her son.

Taking a deep breath, he pushes the front door open, half expecting his mother to be sitting on his couch with crossed arms. Instead, he finds the lights dimmed and living room empty. He lets out the breath slowly and closes the door behind him, careful to make as little noise as possible. The bedroom door is wide open and Lu Han can see a figure curled up on the bed. With a sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to dial his mother.

“Why are you calling from your cell phone?”

Lu Han rolls his eyes as he settles into the couch, “Does it really matter, mom?! I called, didn’t I?”

“I told you to call from your home phone. How else am I supposed to know you’re really home?”

A groan slipped the sons mouth and he bent over, elbows on his knees and a thumb and finger massaging his temples, “Mom, it’s been almost four months, don’t you trust me by now?”

“Oh, so if I call your apartment now, I won’t have Minseok telling me that you’re out, right?”

“Jesus, mom! I’m twenty-three years old! When are you going to trust me?!” he argues back, getting to his feet and heading towards the bedroom on tiptoes. “Don’t call okay? You’ll just wake Minseok; I think he’s working early at the hospital tomorrow,” he explains as he pulls the door closed with a soft click. “Just give me a sec okay? I’ll call you right back.” Lu Han hardly waits for an affirmative response from his mother before he hangs up and reaches for the cordless apartment phone sitting on the counter and dialing again. “Better?” he asks sarcastically when his mother picks up again.

Lu Han listens as his mother describes her day with a deaf ear, humming at the right intervals as he contemplates to himself why he even bothered to close the bedroom door when his mother had threatened to call the apartment; he hardly cared if the husband forced onto him had enough sleep for his workday tomorrow.

When his mother finally ran out of things to say fifteen minutes later, Lu Han hangs up with a groan, wondering how much longer he’s going to have to keep up the charade; surely Minseok must be getting at least a _little_ annoyed with Lu Han trying his best to make life difficult on purpose. It would only be a matter of time before the doctor requested a divorce, right?

With another exasperated sigh, Lu Han opens the bedroom door again and heads towards the closet to grab a clean set of clothes to change into before turning around to leave the room once more to make himself comfortable on the couch.

He will just have to wait for tomorrow morning to come up with more ways to force Kim Minseok into wanting a divorce.


	13. Disneyland Date

Yixing doesn’t do it for any particular reason, he just feels like it. He’s really got nothing terribly important to say, but he just doesn’t like how Kris is surrounded on three sides by girls that he bets would trade just about anything to reach out and touch their tall, blond idol. A voice from somewhere behind him makes a comment about “that hot tall guy wearing black” and Yixing just about loses it, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to grab Kris around the elbow.

The taller male almost trips in surprise but Yixing can always trust his leader to put his own safety second to Yixing’s. “Are you okay?” the older asks, back slouching and head leaning towards Yixing to hear him over the noise around them.

Yixing doesn’t answer immediately, just presses his cheek against Kris’ shoulder because the contact is nice, even if it is swelteringly hot as they walk. “No, I’m fine. But can we walk a little faster?”

Kris gives him a concerned look, “Why?”

“I just don’t like that there are so many girls around you.”

Yixing feels Kris deliberately pull away a little, running his free hand through his hair in the nervous way Yixing knows is reserved for when he’s trying hard to keep a straight face. He lets go of Kris’ arm only when their manager turns and gives him the slightest of warning looks but Yixing isn’t bothered, because Kris has moved so that Jongin’s behind him, Minseok’s in front of him, and Yixing covers his left.

Yixing still doesn’t like that Kris’ right side is wide open, but he doesn’t complain because one girl beside Kris is much better than the ten that were surrounding him before.


	14. Conversations Over Breakfast

Kris kicked one leg over the other with an exasperated sigh when Yixing finally made his way to join him in the kitchen, “Finally got up, huh?” Kris grumbled, an obvious joking tone to his voice.

“G’mornin’, Kris,” Yixing greeted through a yawn into the fridge as he pulled out a new carton of eggs and placed them on the counter, almost missing the surface completely before he nudged them back to safety. “How about some eggs over easy for breakfast today?” he asked rhetorically.

A smile lit up on Kris’ face, “Eggs? Wow, you haven’t bothered to cook breakfast in ages.” The accountant stood up, headed towards the toaster and peered down into the small appliance, “What happened to just toast in the mornings?”

Yixing grabbed a pan from the cupboard, not offering a reply to Kris who only sighed with acceptance; he had gotten used to it over the years.

“Where’d I put that spatula?” Yixing asked instead, starting to pull open all the drawers, miscellaneous cutlery and cooking utensils rattling in their disturbed homes.

“Third one down on your left, idiot,” Kris laughed as Yixing scowled and paused with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Right, third on left,” Yixing recited right before locating his spatula and spinning around to the stove again, cracking a couple of eggs onto one side of the hot pan before heading back to the refrigerator to pull a bag of potato hash from the freezer, emptying a handful into the free side of the pan with a crackling sizzle.

“Nothing for me by the way,” Kris added snarkily. As if Yixing would need reminding; Kris never joined him for breakfast. Kris continued to watch with an amused grin, arms crossed as he leaned sideways into the wall behind Yixing, wondering when his boyfriend would notice the cowlick that he’d woken up with this morning. He loved this forgetful side of Yixing, stumbling around like a lost child as though still waiting for Kris to pick up after him.

“So what’s on the schedule for today, love?” Kris finally asked as he followed Yixing back towards the kitchen table.

“Big day today,” Yixing mumbled in between shoveling potatoes into his mouth off his plate, making Kris scowl disapprovingly.

“Please chew before you swallow, can’t have you choking on me. And why’s it a big day?” the older prompted.

“CEO’s coming down to our department to discuss numbers. I mean, we’ve just had a great quarter, made all our goals, surpassed them in fact, but you know how it is, nothing’s ever good enough,” Yixing grumbled into the silence of his kitchen, words echoing off the walls and cold tiles underfoot.

Kris chuckled in agreement; his own boss had always been all about the numbers too.

“I’m not too worried though, but it’s what’s after work that’s freaking me out. Mom’s in town and we know what that means.”

Kris scowled and slouched downwards towards the table, spreading his arms out before him until his chin almost touched the surface. He liked Yixing’s mom, really, but lately, she’d taken to inviting Yixing out on dinners with family friends and trying to encourage their similarly aged children to date. “She sure is making an effort to make you forget that you already have a boyfriend,” Kris grumbled, evidently displeased and the idea of Yixing being with someone other than him hitting a jealous nerve.

“Let’s not be mad at her, okay?” Yixing sighed as he pushed out from the table, wooden chair legs scraping against the ceramic tiles. “She’s got great intentions, just, you know, I’m not up for that yet.” His fork clattered into the sink as Yixing downed the last of his orange juice and set the glass down in the sink with the other dishes with a sigh. “I miss you, Kris,” he whispered, barely even audible.

The muscles in Kris’ jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, stepping up within inches of the younger and breathing in deeply, flinching angrily when he couldn’t make out Yixing’s signature scent. “Yeah, I miss you too, Xing.”

More precisely, he should be saying ‘I miss you most,’ given that Kris missed so many things now: the feeling of hunger, the sensation of falling, the ability to touch things. Even never having to sleep any more got boring quick.

Kris reached a finger up try to flatten out the cowlick on Yixing’s head, only sighing in defeat when his hand slipped right through the hairs, stubborn strands left untouched.

“I wish you’d never left me, Kris,” Yixing continued, almost inaudibly, gaze turning down to stare at his curling toes for a minute before finally letting out a long sigh. He cleared his throat to compose himself, finally running a hand through his hair and catching the cowlick. With a frown, Yixing hurried back to the bathroom, not blinking twice at walking straight through Kris on the way.

Above everything else, Kris missed being alive.

“I’ve always been here,” Kris answered to unhearing ears as Yixing disappeared through the bathroom doors. “And I always will be, as long as you want me to.”


End file.
